10 years ago.
As the crawling beltway around Washington regurgitated my
vehicle to the 3 lane Interstate 95 North, felt little ease, but the traffic was
still well below the speed limit.
I drank the left over black coffee from the mug sitting in
the cup holder. Then drank a sip of water
from the plastic bottle rolled out from the passenger seat. Eyes started
drooping, as the NPR news changed to classical music. I had started early morning trip after a
night stay at my cousin’s. Tomorrow, again back in the daily grind at hospital,
waking up early and commuting to the city.
I felt like taking a break at the rest area, just to stretch
my legs and empty the bladder, which reminded me that it is getting full.
Coffee has worked its way down as usual.
Within half an hour I found the brown and blue signs. “Maryland
Welcomes You”,
“Chesapeake Rest Area”.
I reduced the speed by suddenly pushing the brake pedal and
entered the exit. Took a long turn and parked the vehicle close to the curb.
Next parking space was occupied by a truck load of teenagers
blasting loud rap music through the car stereos. Then two other cars sped up to
the adjacent ones. More youngsters, louder and rowdy came out. I sat in my seat
for a while, just watching them enter the rest area and shouting to each other.
Then came a mini bus full of church congregation, who spread out and stopped at
the various placards and boards. As the commotion was somewhat settled, I closed
the car door, deposited the paper and other garbage in the adjacent receptacle
and entered the facility. It was somewhat large, with oval area with food
courts and rest rooms. I waited till the teenagers and the church people leave.
After that I just walked around. There were stalls with items only used by travelers.
After my window shopping, I looked at my watch. It might take at least 4 hours to
get back to New Hyde Park, possibly after 2 PM, depending upon the New York city
traffic.
I went outside the rest area to the parking lot. It was
empty.
The church bus has left. In its space, now a red rusted Ford
150 is parked. The truck with tinted windows and loud music has also gone. I forgot
where my car was. Yes; the garbage can. It was parked next to it.
But that space was empty, except for two crushed cigarette
butts and marks of oil drips.
The whole parking lot was in fact empty. The Interstate had
traffic moving faster than it was.
Where is my car?
A sudden chill came to my spine.
I lost my car! To be precise, it has been stolen.
I was lost for the action. What should I do now?
I dialed my cousin’s number. He did not pick up. It was just
his answering machine voice. I left message for him. “I stopped at the rest
area. Now It seems like my car is stolen; I am going to call the police. Just
letting you know. I am in Maryland somewhere next to I-95 call me when you get
this message”
Lot of thoughts came to my mind. From tomorrow, I have no
way to go to work. If I need to take public transportation, it would be 2 hours
with combination of bus and subway trains. I don’t know what I would do, if I
needed to be back for emergencies. If I am in the subway, I won’t get the
wireless signal. I don’t know how I would get back to Long island. If my cousin
can come and pick me, he can possibly drop me at the DC bus station. But I may
need to get a cheaper car. I had no idea how to get that sorted out in hours. I
cursed myself for the plan of coming to DC for this weekend. I should’ve stayed
at home. But that is too late. I dialed 911. “Police” I said. “I need to report
my vehicle stolen” After giving the details and answering the questions, the
operator said,”We will dispatch someone soon. Sir”.
I did not know how long to wait.
Now I have to stand there. My phone battery has two lines of
charge. I do not have any other option, other than waiting at that empty parking
lot.
Then few more people
came and since I was standing, they decided to park further away.
My cousin called back. He asked whether he should come immediately.
I told him that there was nothing too important in the car. Only the clothes I was
wearing and possibly some CDs. But the main issue is how to get the paperwork
done with the police, and to get back to NYC. I agreed with my cousin that most
often, stolen vehicles are never found, mostly they are broken down for spare
parts and will land in black market of other countries.
While speaking to him, I saw a police car on the opposite
side parking lot, slowly inspecting the cars parked and seemed like he could be
the one dispatched for me. I told my cousin that I am hanging up as the police
came to check. I waved my hands side to side to attract the attention of the
police while clutching on the cell phone. He seemed to look through me, as if
he did not care. May be, it was NOT the one. I waited for 5 more minutes. Then
I saw another police car stopping in the parking lot near me. The officer was
on the radio. Then she opened the door, looked at me, and walked towards me.
I greeted her “Good morning officer,I had called”.
After I explained the situation, She asked, “Where are you
heading Sir?”
“New York”
“Where did you say you are coming from?”
“Washington DC”
“You said you parked your car here?”
“Yes Maam”
‘But you are going North.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yes Ma’am,I was.”
“But you are now going south towards Washington”
I was lost for words. I was sure that I took the right exit.
But if that so, the point is, I got my vehicle stolen. I felt that the police
officer was suspecting that I was lying and fabricating a story.
She said with a firm
voice, ‘Wait a minute here, do not move.”
She then walked towards her car. She stretched her arm
inside and took the radio “This is 167..”
She then smiled and said, “yes; I can see you…over”
I did not know what was happening. She walked towards me. “Sir,
you said your car was a Honda with New York plates?”
“Yes”
“-And you said, you were going to New York”, She asked.
“Yes; that is correct”, I said firmly.
“But, you did not park your car here Sir; so do not worry.
Just go back to the rest area. I will call my colleague. He is looking for you
over the north side parking”.
Then I saw another police car at the other side. I went into
the rest area and came out through the other entrance.
Then there it was, the shining grill smiling at me in the sun.
My car!
It was parked next to the garbage can, like I did.
It was not stolen after all!
I ran to the other end. There was the lady officer standing.
“Is everything alright?” She smiled.
“I am sorry… I thought I parked on this side. Sorry to have
bothered you” I said apologetically.
“No problem. It happens here quite often. It is the common
rest area for both south and north Interstate.”
Then I saw her car being blocked by another police car.
“He is an ass” She said.
“Who?”
“My husband, he is blocking me” She said.
I went back to my car. I caressed the steering wheel, as if
it was my family member, my pet.
I am happy that you are with me. As for a moment, I thought
I lost you forever. Thank you for everything you do for me. This moment made me
realize how indebted I am…
My dear car!
